The greatest gift and honor
by ekc293
Summary: "'I thought nothing could be worse - Nothing could be worse than watching them lower your wife into the ground... But I was wrong. I was so wrong... Because then I watched you get shot in front of me." A potential idea in progress.
1. Daughers

I'm not sorry for what you're about to read.

* * *

_The greatest gift and honor..._

* * *

She hesitated a moment before knocking on the door to the apartment, her fist hovering over the wood for just a moment before it fell onto the door with a soft thud. It was relatively late and she wasn't sure if he had already gone to bed for the night. It wouldn't surprise her. She should have just waited until morning when she knew he'd be awake. God knows she'd been awake for far too long as it was.

The day seemed never-ending.

Gates, surprisingly, had been the one to get her out of there. In fact, it seemed like the entire precinct was in on the attempt to get her out of the spotlight and the press conferences and back into the shadows when all the reporters wanted was her side of the story. She was sure her name was plastered on the news reports that were showing, pictures taken by civilians on the street of her wrapped up in Castle's arms after the takedown happened, her knees giving out underneath her before an officer pulled his cruiser between them and the crowd with a nod of acknowledgement, already on the internet she was sure of it.

She hoped he hadn't seen it yet.

When he opened the door, looking at her with a look she couldn't quite decipher, she knew he had.

"I thought I'd be seeing you tonight," Jim Beckett murmured, opening up the door to her, "I made us hot chocolate."

There were two mugs already full on the coffee table in front of his old sofa, and he lead her over towards it.

She should have known.

She picked up her mug as she sat down on one end of the sofa, her father sitting on the opposite end. She took a sip of her hot chocolate, looking up at the muted TV with Bracken's name plastered across the bottom, the video of him being led away in handcuffs on repeat since the story first broke a few hours ago.

It would be in the national headlines by morning.

If it wasn't already.

"I got him, dad," she whispered, the words she had been longing to say for so many years tripping over her tongue, "it's over."

Jim sighed, shaking his head, "Katie, it's been over for a long time now."

She was shaking her head right along with him.

"No, it wasn't," she said, feeling her anger rise within her, "He was still out there –"

"Katie –"

"He killed her, dad," she said, angry that her voice was shaking, "How could you not wa-"

"_Katie._"

It was all he had to say.

Kate closed her eyes, her shoulders shaking because she didn't understand.

How could you not want these answers?

How could he not _need _them like she did?

He pursed his lips for a moment, looking at her with a contemplative look, before he leaned forward, his hands coming together over his knees.

"Right after your mother died," he said, wringing his hands together, "I thought nothing could be worse - _Nothing _could be worse than watching them lower your wife into the ground." He paused for a moment, shaking his head, "But I was wrong. I was so wrong."

He finally looked up at her, his eyes shining just as she's sure hers were.

"Because then I watched you get shot in front of me."

Her breath hitched in her throat.

"Dad –"

"It was every single nightmare I'd had since the day you told me you were getting your badge coming true," he said quietly, "I sat in that waiting room and watched a room full of cops, doctors, and people that love you terrified out of their minds because they thought you were going to die on that table and they would know better than I did. And you nearly did die…" his eyes locked on hers as he trailed off, his gaze burning with the agony he felt on that day.

"I was wrong," he said again, "that losing your mother was the worst thing that could ever happen to me," he reached out, grabbed one of her hands from where she had pressed them between her knees, and squeezed it gently.

"Losing you – _you_ who brought so much happiness into our lives from the moment we knew you were there, would be much _much _worse."

He ran his thumb over the back of her hand.

"Nothing, _nothing _in the world is worth losing you. Not answers, not revenge, _nothing. _Your mother wouldn't have wanted you to get killed over this."

Kate swallowed thickly, looking at their joined hands before she looked back at him, taking a deep breath.

He'd laid her mother to rest a long time ago.

"So all this time you just thought I was being stupid?"

"No, never" he answered immediately, "Reckless, perhaps, but never stupid. Just because I didn't need to know the answers doesn't mean you didn't. You got that from your mother," he said fondly, "She always needed to know the truth no matter what it took."

He let go of her hand, leaned back against the couch, and looked at the TV, watching Bracken walk silently across the screen in handcuffs once again.

"That man is going to rot in prison for the lives he's destroyed," he said, "and that's all because of you, Katie. You should be proud of yourself. You did it."

They sat in silence for a while, their hot chocolate cooling quickly in front of them. She looked at her watch before she sighed, standing up.

"I should get going," she said softly, "It's getting late."

"You going home?"

Kate nodded.

"Yeah," she said, standing up straight, "I'm not really up for dealing with people tonight."

She paused at the look in Jim's eye.

"Castle's there," she said softly, "He said he wanted me to relax tonight so he's making me dinner."

She wouldn't mention he also had plans to draw her a bath.

Jim let his lips quirk up at the corners.

"I thought you said you didn't feel like dealing with people?"

Kate pursed her lips, feeling her cheeks pink slightly.

"Castle's not people," she mumbled, "He's just… oh, shut up."

Jim laughed lightly, his eyes shining with delight.

"I'm so proud of you, Katie."

She gave him a confused smile.

"For what?"

He didn't answer, instead just put a hand on her back and began to lead her towards the doorway, her

"Don't ever ask me 'for what?' again…" he said seriously as he opened the door for her, turning towards her and hugging her the way he used to do when she was a little girl, rocking her slightly from side to side before he kissed her forehead softly.

"The answer," he whispered, pulling away from her forehead to look her directly in the eye, his eyes sparkling at her once again, "is always 'for being you'. I could never have hoped for anything more."

* * *

_is having you for a daughter._

* * *

This could potentially turn into a series of Mulan related oneshots and I am 2000% not sorry._  
_


	2. Reflection

It was just hair.

She stared at herself in the mirror, looking at the hair that tumbled just below her shoulders, trying to convince herself that it was true.

She'd always loved her hair. Maybe she hadn't always treated it the best, what with all the straightening and the dyeing, but she always had a fondness for her hair. She liked it long. When she was little, her mother used to run her fingers through her hair when they would lie on the couch. She and her friends used to practice braiding on each others hair. And he used to like to -

No.

This was not about _him_.

He was gone. He _left_.

Who cares about him?

It was about her.

She couldn't be who she needed to be with her hair like this.

A Detective.

That's what she's wanted. It's what she's been working so hard for.

And really… it's just hair.

No, it was more than hair.

It was a weakness.

It was a liability.

And Offic- _Detective_ Beckett could not afford to be a liability to her team.

She'd already worked so hard for everything she's gotten, and she's earned it just like every other male detective in that precinct, hell, in the entire damn city and she wasn't going to let them take that from her. She was tired of the teasing when she arrived after the others at a crime scene because she was the last on the call list but no, it was "what Beckett, were you having a bad hair day?;" "Couldn't find the right shoes to go with that top?;" "Did you run out of lipstick this morning?"

_Hell no_.

She usually wore her hair up and it wasn't an issue. It wasn't that long to start with. But the one day she wore it down was the one day they ran into a hostile suspect. And it was the one suspect who grabbed onto her hair and yanked her down onto the floor with him when he panicked and tried to run away, dislocating her shoulder and giving her a mild concussion.

She was out of the field for a week.

Her hair was a goddamn vulnerability.

Really, _come on_, it's just hair.

It shouldn't be an issue.

She didn't want to cut it.

But she just couldn't be Detective Beckett if she had to worry about keeping her hair back in a bun at a crime scene, or when they went to interview a suspect. She couldn't be worried about bobby pins and hairspray.

She needed to be a professional.

She couldn't be worried about what people thought of her, or how she'd gotten her job.

She needed people to take her seriously.

Kate had long hair.

Detective Beckett couldn't.

And she couldn't be both, could she? She didn't have time for Kate. Not when she needed to solve her mother's case. Not when she was trying to make Senior Detective. And she was so close she could almost taste it.

She fingered her long locks, she ran a finger over the soft strand, silently mourning the loss.

She rolled her eyes at herself, huffing as her fingers falling away from the strand and into her lap.

It wasn't a loss, she reminded herself.

If this is what it took to get her coworkers to take her seriously, than it wasn't a loss at all.

It was a necessity.

"So, dear, did you decide on what you want?"

She refocused her gaze on the stylist in the mirror as the woman snapped the drape around her neck, pulling her hair out from underneath and over her shoulders so Kate could explain what she wanted.

Kate closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling steadily before she nodded once.

"Yeah," she whispered.

It was only hair.

She cleared her throat, making her voice as strong as she could.

Detective Beckett wouldn't whisper.

"Cut it all off."

* * *

(to everyone who says they have never seen Mulan, it is my all time favorite movie and I'm giving you homework: [http: (slashslash) put locker .com (slash) file (slash) 2YWO583K62GW0GOW#] )

(also the last time I wrote a hair story I had a handful of people tell me they couldn't take me seriously. lol. we'll see...)


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